


One great thing

by Ravenhill



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: I made it as flowery as I could though, but I'm no writer and the results are questionable, in which one unassuming maid discovers the joys of self pleasure, subject on which I totally didn't just write over 1000 words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 22:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5432942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ravenhill/pseuds/Ravenhill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title was inspired by the homonymous song by Big Country, whose lyrics I personally found befitting of Tauriel’s character.</p></blockquote>





	One great thing

The Captain of the Elven Guard of Mirkwood left the celebrations of Mereth en Gilith on her own feet for the first time in what must be, by her own reckoning, a hundred of years to the very least. The soundness of said estimation was likely invalidated by her tipsiness – being awake to greet the first light of dawn after a feast was one thing, but no proper wood elf would do so without at least slurring their words a little.

And oh, how inebriated Tauriel felt indeed that night, and how acutely aware of the nature surrounding her, down to the most minute of beings; though it would be wrong to attribute such state of grace to the sole effect of alcohol, not to mention unfair to the young lad she’d visited in the dungeons earlier that evening. Kili’s spiritedness had been to her not unlike a gust of wind coursing through the thickest branches so untamed that, despite the forest being as umbrageous as ever, the ground her feet touched felt as soft as the green grass of Almaren. The warmth in his eyes had made something blossom in her, a bud whose existence she’d ignored until that day. 

Any manner of flower hadn’t been common in those woods, in fact, for a long time. Her people as a whole, the elf maid realized on her way to her tree-dwelling, had gradually come to accept the absence of beauty in their homeland, to the point where the loss barely registered to their eyes; yet tonight the new spring in her step clashed with the normalcy she’d let herself slip into in the past centuries.  
Yes - the elleth finally resolved once in her quarters – she would double her efforts in purging her starlit woods from the spiders, and perhaps the undergrowth would benefit from a thinning out of the dense foliage at the top of the ancient trees…

Without bothering to remove any more than the uncomfortable leathery parts of her armor, Tauriel lay down on her bed, hoping sleep would catch up to her as swiftly as it was wont to do after a long and tiring day. But she was too excited still, too utterly giddy with life, and the memory of Kili’s sharp eyes wouldn’t let her rest just yet. The mischievous kindness he’d shown despite the situation had had an unexpected effect on her; as had the dark hairs on his face, so short compared to the long beards his companions sported. It hadn’t stricken her as coarse or dirty as the stories had had her believe; in fact, for a moment her fingers had itched to touch it and find out if it was as prickly as it seemed. As their conversation progressed, Kili had begun looking almost handsome in her eyes. Where only a concept, a nebulous idea of a faceless and generally unlikeable race had been before, that night stood a fully-formed person whom, regardless of all differences, she could no longer deny attractiveness.

It wasn’t entirely surprising that such unfamiliar thoughts would arouse an equally new kind of stinging down in her core. Elves were a typically chaste race, and Tauriel had only explored her body a couple of times at best, with the methodical manner of a youth intent in discovering the ways of nature – never had she been prompted to do so by a sweltering sensation that demanded attention between her thighs. Awkwardness stayed her hands, but it was of no help against her imagination.

She hadn’t been able to forget the touch of his fingers when he’d taken his rune stone back from her; instead her mind had replayed the fleeting sensation over and over, though it was only in that moment that, spurred by the calm and dim setting of her rooms, it surprised her by shifting that phantom touch to a different patch of skin. In the elf’s wake dreams, the black-haired archer was now softly running both his warm hands on her cheeks, grinning that same kind smile he’d worn in his cell as the drag of his calluses on delicate skin elicited quivering sighs from her. From there a thumb swiped a caress on her lips before his digits blazed a trail on her temples and buried themselves in the flaming mane of red hair, followed boldly by what could be only his mouth on her brow, the side of her head, a high cheekbone.

She marveled at the clarity with which her skin could create the sensation it had never felt, trembling as the imaginary feeling of his full lips on her earlobe sent a too real shiver down her spine…

Her eyes flew open in a sudden concrete doubt. Would a dwarf’s round ears be as sensitive as hers? Would Kili know to tease them?

 _Well_ , she thought slipping back in her reverie; _this is no more than a daydream anyways._ She may as well let herself believe he’d know just the right way to take the pointy tip of her ear in between his lips and delicately tug on it, his breath smoothing down a flyaway red strand like a heated caress. 

Nothing could have prepared her for the responding jolt that traveled though her body, reaching low where an unfamiliar pressure had been steadily building. Every concept of modesty and awkwardness cast aside, Tauriel’s hands unthinkingly inched down the planes of her torso, then her stomach, until they came in contact with the laces of her clothes at last - and every lace undone was a dropped shred of shyness, so irrefutable was then the need to render in reality the passionate touches Kili was gracing her with in her mind. 

Her finger slipping in the tight ring of muscles has her gasping in the pillow; the sharp sting isn’t painful, though, not at all, tip-toeing instead across the thin line to pleasure. But the slickness it finds inside is caused by the phantom of his thick finger rather than her thin one, and Tauriel hazily decides that adding another digit might come closer to recreating that feeling. Rapidly realizing this position isn’t going to do the job, she turns on her belly, so that gravity can aid her in grinding on the heel of the hand that is pressing down on her most heated spot.

This, combined with the fingers curling inside rhythmically as her heartbeat, draws quiet moans from low and deep in her throat, yet she can’t hear them in her utter rapture. Her eyes are closed, but Kili is staring into them nonetheless, his eyes smoldering like coals in the early morning shade and seemingly coaxing her to give in. They don’t break the contact for a second and Tauriel is euphoric, balancing on the top of the tallest tree and delighted by the apparent danger of the fall, certain that if she did, he’d be there to catch her.

And he would, oh he would, and he does, _he_ –

She arched, her orgasm hitting her like an arrow, and for a moment her mind went blank as if she’d just awoken under the stars in Cuivienen, in a world yet undiscovered.

Pleasure ebbing to calm like the pulsating waves after the tsunami, Tauriel felt free, the kind of freedom that derives from complete communion with the world; no grief could touch her for none existed in the timeless abnormity of existence. Hurt was a leaf torn off a branch by the autumn winds; it was of no consequence, not when hundreds of leaves fell from thousands of trees every cycle of seasons whose amount no one would ever count.  
For a blessed, exhilarating parenthesis in time, every shadow of worry and concern and pain lost their grip on her, leaving only unabashed elation to fiddle a sweet tune on the strings of her heart.

And though the elf was aware their time together had been way too brief, she let herself love that foolhardy dwarf whose stories had brightened her life, or at least the sides of him he’d allowed to be seen through the bars; and then sleep came to her at last, along with the quiet certainty that from then on the twinkle of clear brown eyes would bestow a merry quality on the pure memory of starlight.

**Author's Note:**

> The title was inspired by the homonymous song by Big Country, whose lyrics I personally found befitting of Tauriel’s character.


End file.
